Page 26 of Sicken of the Calm
Right now, though, I don’t haveit in me to care.
CHAPTER FIVE
Despite my promise to Ivafollowing me around like a ghost, I haven’t actually come close to keeping it.So I guess it’s just the goes-around, comes-around of Karma when I see Ezrawith someone else.
In truth, what my brainclassifies as “seeing Ezra with someone else” is literally just that; Ezrastanding next to an attractive human male. They’re chatting beside bike rackssome way off in the distance, and for a few seconds, the angle I’m walking frommakes it seem that they’re much closer together than they are. Stripped fromthe context of a party, the casual mirage of intimacy feels like a sudden blow.My steps stutter for a moment, and what comes to mind isn’t Ezra having sexwith the unknown guy, it’s Ezra commanding him. Using that hardsoft voice, thatlook in his eyes, those fingers that had captured me right from the start. Itsteals my breath away and I look away for a moment. Out of all the emotions I’mfeeling, humiliation swamps them all. It’s the sharp, lonely feeling you getwhen you’ve been duped by a person you care about, the knowledge that it waspractically your blind doing all along.
When I look up again, the miragehas cleared and I see that they’re standing much farther apart than I thought, Ezramessing about with his hands on a bollard. There’s relief, but it’s nauseous,like being rescued from the waves with a belly full of salt water.
This was exactly what Iva warnedme about. I don’t know what Ezra is doing with other people and don’t have aright to, either. But, even with my modus operandi being denial, I know thatwhatever I’m doing with Ezra makes me feel far more vulnerable than I’ve everfelt with anybody. It’s not even the implicit dangers of following someone’sorders when high on arousal – it’s the moments after. That soft space when I’msated and malleable, that’s where the danger really is. If the anchor of myfaith in Ezra, that he’ll take care of me both consciously and unconsciously,disintegrates, then so will I. In that state, even a stray thought is morepowerful than it would be otherwise, and I’m scared the bruise will keep.
I tilt my head down and away fromthe bike racks and walk in the other direction before he can see me.
**********
“I’m not sleeping with anybodyelse.”
I’ve been rehearsing how to bringup the topic in my head for the past two days, and that’s the best I came upwith. It’s said in the most awkward way possible, too. We’d agreed with littleconversation to do all the joint coursework necessary for anthropologytogether, and he’s in my room to plan the next project. We’re bothconcentrated, or I’m pretending to be, when I blurt it out. He blinks at me,rightfully startled by what must seem an out-of-the-blue comment, even if it’sbeen bubbling to the surface for days. Weeks, really.
“Okay…” he says slowly. “Meneither.” The awkwardness of the situation stops me from feeling much relief.“Would it be a problem if I did?” Ezra asks, looking at me carefully.
I shrug, saying nothing, eventhough I want to. After a moment, he pushes back from the table, chair legsscratching against the floor as he moves it to face me.
“Ok, yeah, we probably need tohave this talk. Look, I know that talking comes easier to me,” he says, and Isnort at the understatement, “But I don’t think it’s good for us to be all –coy about this, about what we, like, do together,” he says, and I try not topoint out the irony of him not being able to say exactly what it is we’re doingtogether. “Especially if it’s, you know, if it has the elements that it has. Imean, I’m not gonna pretend to be an expert, but I definitively think this isskirting BDSM. OrisBDSM, actually. Maybe not hardcore, or all thestuff the term BDSM actually covers, but the part about…the Dominant/submissivepart, yeah.”
Even after my talk with Iva, I’ma little surprised at the acronym. To me, BDSM sounds like leather and the kindof pain that far surpasses a few nail marks on skin. Ezra is looking at me steadilydespite the way he stumbled over his words, gauging my response. I try tosearch myself for an honest reaction too. I can’t deny that there is a sense ofdiscomfort at the thought, a knee-jerk reaction to the word “submissive”. Butamidst everything that we’ve done together, what jumps out at me is the waythat Ezra dresses me in the end. The way he told me to take a shower, to have adrink. The conversation we had afterwards, soft and about nothing. I feelbelly-up and splayed in those moments, and thinking about them makes me feeltight, warm, good.
“Yeah,” I reply simply. The lineof Ezra’s shoulders relaxes slightly. He nods.
“Ok. Well, if you want, I thinkwe could explore that with each other. I’m not asking for something serious. Imean, I think we should be exclusive ‘cause, yeah. It’d be weird to complicatethe dynamic. But, you know, we don’t need this to be a commitment. I mean, Iknow you don’t want…we’re still in college and stuff and I know you…well, Ijust think it’d be cool if we had someone that’s safe to do this stuff with.”He finishes by leaning back in the chair as if giving me space to think.
Safe. The word springs out, andit’s the perfect one to use to describe how I feel when I’m with him. Despitethis, what he’s offering is not what I want. Or, more accurately, only part ofwhat I want. I understand the difference between exclusivity with commitment versuswithout it; one is walking on the same path, whilst the other is walking onseparate, parallel ones, liable to veer off at any second.
As I think about it, I can’t helpbut wonder if he’s right, if I’m not ready for commitment. There are so manythings complicating the situation, the least of which are the elements ofsubmission and dominance; the feelings I have for Ezra, unreciprocated sincehigh school, the fact that he’s the only person I’ve liked that way, and thefirst guy I have a sexual relationship with beyond singular encounters. Thesituation is imbalanced, and I’m coming out on the losing end.
I can’t help but think that ifEzra wanted the same as I do, he would have offered it already. If he had, Ican’t deny I’d be chomping at the bit. Now, I can either have the courage toask for more or the strength of will to reject him altogether. Or, I think, Icould be grateful for the bird in my hand instead of trying to look for two inthe bush.
“Ok,” I agree finally, nodding inresolve. “I think that, yeah, we shouldn’t sleep with other people and…yeah,it’d be good to do this together,” I say. Despite the internal debate, I relax,relieved that at least it’s all out in the open. I suspect that Ezra knows Ihave feelings for him – he seemed to allude to the fact in his little speech –but I trust him.
“Cool. Right, now, for the funstuff. I’ll get a pen and paper,” he says, leaning toward the table to getsupplies. I raise my eyebrows.
“The fun stuff requires pen andpaper?”
“Yep,” he grins, leaning back inthe chair with a pad and a chewed-up pen. “We’re gonna talk about the stuff welike.” The look on his face makes me fill with a sweet-tasting apprehension.
“Ok…”
“So, you said you’ve never beenfingered. Ever been penetrated by someone else with something else?” Ezra asks,and I frown furiously as embarrassment flares. Ezra laughs a little, althoughnot unkindly. “We gotta be frank about this, dude. If we can’t talk about it,we shouldn’t be doing it, and all that,” he says with a wave of his hand. Ifeel a muscle in my jaw jump before trying to unclench enough to speak.
“No, I haven’t been…penetrated,”I say the last word through gritted teeth like it physically pains me.
“Ok. Are you interested in doingthat with me?” he asks and, Jesus Christ. I don’t know if the heat that surgesis embarrassment or arousal.
“Yes.”
“Toys too?”
“Yes.” I have to push the imagethat comes to mind back with a stick.
